


Shielded: An X-Men Story

by heroesinahalfshell91



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men (Ultimateverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: The Animated Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Coming of Age, F/F, Families of Choice, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 18:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6716068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroesinahalfshell91/pseuds/heroesinahalfshell91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maya who's life spun in crazed circles from childhood tragedy to rebellious years stuck in a system where no one wanted her because of who she was, to a fairy-tale ending with the family of her dreams receives a shocking turn of events that leads her now to embrace another family just as equally fairy-tale in nature, known only as the X-Men, and a love that would change her world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shielded: An X-Men Story

"I have to warn you though, she is a bit of a rebel." Heaven help them, those were the first words anyone had ever used to describe me to my parents. What in the Hell were they thinking?

I should clarify however, I'm adopted. Yes, it's true, no matter how much I wish they were my real parents, or how impossible that actually was, they are not. Now, the social worker wasn't trying to be cruel or anything, she was just doing her job, and after I'd been in the cycle for a little over twelve years it was no small wonder that she was grasping at straws at this point.

You see, they wanted a baby, everyone wants a baby, someone who's mind and life they could shape, just like any natural born family could their offspring; not a full grown fourteen year old girl with her own thoughts, emotions, opinions. They wanted bows and ribbons, teddy bears and talcum powder; not combat boots, and nail polish, a tongue piercing and attitude.

All those things aside however, I can picture them, sitting there all a quiver waiting to find out who the newest member of their family could be, only to be hit with such a ghastly proposition.

"No criminal record or anything!" she would have tried to smooth things out. "She just, has an issue with authority is all..." The poor woman must have said having a real hard time describing me, not the model of a dream daughter from the outside, moderate grades and some volunteer work, but still the balls she must have had. I mean, I wasn't even meant to be in the list of kids they'd be given.

They'd declined, and I'm sure she was desperate at that point, big brown eyes a flutter with panic as they shook their heads and made ready to leave. It's funny but I can't imagine how she thought she was going to pull it off, even with our common backgrounds taken into consideration.

"Oh, please!" she'd bellowed, as dad stood to pace at the back of the room. "She needs you to do this!" You see there's something else I forgot to clarify, there had to be dozens of girls I knew in the system who looked just like me, with just as much an sass as I had, but they weren't called rebels like me, that's a special name for those of us kids they'd rather not have to deal with directly. "She's gay!"

That, was the one thing that must have hit them, square between the eyes.

"Maya's openly gay, and has been for a while." Olivia, that's her name would have informed them. "She's suffering because of it, in the group home... No one wants her either, no one wants the kid with the 'problems...' Please I thought, I thought you..."

That's when their parental instinct must have kicked in, along with their pride as two strong gay men. They looked at each other and knew, whether they liked it or not fate had chosen a child for them, it wasn't the child they'd envisioned, dreamed of, but the child they would come to love eternally.

Now, you'd think life would have gotten along all cozy and good right off the bat what with all us fairies in one big pot, but you'd be fucking moronic to make that assumption.

First of all, I hated them. They seemed to think they knew who I was, what I was all about, and believed that they could relate to me right away, just because they liked played baseball, and I was an aspiring carpet connoisseur, they of course were wrong. Another thing was my room, hastily remade from a nursery it still bore the tell-tale signs, and I knew right away that they hadn't wanted me and only a week into my term took off after an argument.

Long story short two days on the lam, cops, "I think we have something that belongs to you," and more work for Olivia. Pete and Leandre as I knew them then, or dad and papa now, had been furious. It was in that fury however, that I saw the first glimmer of if not yet love, a caring for me.

It was still a bit rocky for the next couple of months as we got to know one another, tested boundaries, and settled into our roles. The only problem that remained at that point was the car.

No, I didn't take it, hell I didn't even want to ride in it, and that was the problem. See, my family had died in an accident when I was four, and, my only memories of them contained the sharp bite of glass, the scream of twisting metal and the deep crimson of blood.

We'd been on our way to a funeral, oddly enough. My father's mom, the last grandparent I'd had, had died. I remember looking at the backs of my parents heads, my mom's blond offset by the deep black of her husband's hair. She was thin with a narrow face and green eyes, all I can really recall of him was that his belly poked out a bit and was really, and mom called him her werewolf and would rub his ear like a dog. I wonder why I remember that.

My brother Carlos, who was nine had more of mother's looks, with the fairness I mean, brownish hair, light eyes, but our father's build, where my Mexican heritage shown through more brightly. He had left bruises from where he'd jabbed me repeatedly with his finger along the road-trip, that day, and I would forever regret wishing him away for it.

I truthfully don't know what happened, one minute we were fine, in fact I was bored nearly to tears, and then the tires roared angrily. We hit something, spinning tightly before executing a terrifying number of roll overs which left us in a ditch. My world was black for such a long time. When everything finally came back the pain hadn't yet registered, but the pressure from my seat belt cutting into me did as I hung suspended upside down with the rest of my family.

My father was in the front seat torn up and crying; a slew of Spanish tumbling frantically from his lips, a part of my heritage I would lose, as he clung to what was left of my mother. Her corn yellow hair a disgusting and hateful red, her smashed in face obscured only partially from my view, her arm, dismembered by the widow however was not spared from my young eyes where it lay several feet away.

That was when I started to scream. The world slipped away for a moment as I fell into unconsciousness. When it returned the only sound I could hear was the wheezing rattle of my brother's lungs as they filled with blood. He smiled weakly to me as our eyes met and he managed smile, and tell me everything was going to be okay.

Pain was my world by that time, pain and the stench of gas. My brother died only moments after he's uttered his comforting and final words. Father who's legs were mangled and side gaped widely managed to unbuckle himself and make it out of the car. It was there on the side of the road that he passed trying to flag down aid as the first siren could be heard far in the distance.

Needless to say, I hate cars, almost as much as the ragged shinning scars I was left with to remember that day, and the chief reason for my being passed over for adoption as a kid. After all no one wants the girl whose face had been shredded by glass, a twisted subdivision of scars covering much of the left side. Still I was incredibly lucky.

My face seemed to be all anyone saw when they looked at me, though after all no one cares about the scars that can't be seen. Or that's what I'd thought until the trouble with dad and papa having to accommodate my walking or biking to and from everywhere began, that's when they gave me a chance to heal, and got me a therapist, Doctor Hendricks. From there things got much better, in fact they were pretty damned perfect.

So why didn't I expect the calamity that followed? Fuck if I know.

With my seventeenth birthday a little over three months away, I couldn't loved my relatively new parents anymore than I already did, even as they smothered me, bore the brunt of bigotry with me and yes, like all parents embarrassed me. I was happy for the first time in a long time, good grades, family, friends, permission to date whoever I wanted without fear, we were taking Spanish classes as a family, and I was even able to go for short car rides.

It was on one of those car rides that it happened. I had been sitting in the back chewing my gum loudly and chatting with dad about what kind of party I wanted for my big day as papa drove us to dinner, a relaxed hand on dad's knee in a, cute-if-they-weren't-mine kinda way. Everything was fine, just as before, only it wasn't.

It was like a sick and horrendous sort of deja vu when it happened. Slowing to go through the yield sign papa had no way of seeing him as the crazed and drunken man tore across the road catty-corner us, and leaped the median. At that moment, seeing them jolt with fear, the other vehicle baring down on us, papa's hand suddenly a fist clenched in desperation around dad's leg, time seemed to stop.

I knew what was going to happen then, again my family would be torn from me, and again I would be left utterly alone in a world that didn't want me. I screamed with an unbridled rage at that realization, my hands flying forward in an instinctual desperation. I felt it then, the airy hollow sensation that filled my head, accompanied by the feeling like I was pushing something, something ridged, but also light away from me. Without thinking I pushed, and pushed until the thing covered us, and then in a flash of agony, the other car hit.

Blinking away the lure of unconscious darkness I managed to rouse my self and found that my family had somehow been spared, and I knew why. It hadn't hit us, rather, the car had struck the bubble, the bubble I had made.

"I did it!" I muttered as a pure knowledge of what had happened settling into my brain.

The other vehicle sat motionless about twenty feet away, it's front end crumpled in while our car was fine. It was after glancing at my parents to see that they were alright that I looked down.

It was so oddly surreal the direness of the situation took a few minutes to sink in. My hands were bent backwards, below the one on the left, my wrist was a throbbing limp noddle as the bones had shot out at awkward, splintered angles near the elbow. On the right my forearm seemed simply to collapse in on itself made lumpy by loosed shards of bone scarcely contained within.

I was so dizzy with the alien experience of it all I forgot to cry, even as the ambulance arrived, a bizarre calm settling about my shoulders rather than the cloak of panic and despair. As I was led away on a stretcher I couldn't help but marvel at the hand prints buried deep into the front end of the other car even as the driver stumbled free of it, staring also with amazement.

Surgery, shock, and medications clouded my next few days, but when I came to however, I found myself in a room loaded with flowers, balloons, and stuffed animals. Only after drinking all this in did I notice my parents whispering near the foot of my bed with a pair who were clearly not doctors.

The man stood arms folded tightly over his chest ruby red shades gleaming in the ambient light. After a moment of observing them the woman seemed to take notice of me and turning in my direction smiled.

"Hello Maya." she smiled approaching me. A silence followed, the weight of which I didn't quite understand settled upon the room. "My name is Jean, and this is Scott. Would it be alright if we talked with you for a moment?" she asked.

At the time I couldn't have guessed where that question or even those strange people would lead me. Through adventure, glory, and even tragedy and shame. Neither could I have guessed that they would lead me to find the girl whom without my life would be utterly incomplete and worthless. They would lead me to love, acceptance, a new family to add to my expanding list, and my one true calling, my calling as an X-Man!


End file.
